The Enemy Within (WHF Witch Hunter Quest)

XXXV - Lying in Wait

The thought of sitting idle while your quarry rides away burns at you like acid, but scarcely less welcome is the notion of confronting her and failing due to injuries disregarded in your haste. In the end the latter proves more daunting, and you make arrangements to stay in Black Peaks until your broken ribs have healed. You will attend to outstanding business, solidify the position and security of the mutants now under your wing, and if the gods are kind, you will be waiting for Etelka when she returns.

The first order of business is to address the boiling tensions in Grissenwald. Max fetches the horses from where you left them, and that very day you make your way back into town with the corpses of half a dozen mutant bandits tied up and slung across the backs of your steeds like lumpen saddlebags. Your ribs hurt too much to ride, but with Elvyra's aid and potent medication you are able to walk with the reins in hand and a living volunteer from the settlement at your side. His name is Leopold, and beneath the hood of a heavy oiled cloak his head has been twisted into that of an eagle, hooked beak and all. Together you present the corpses and your testimony to the authorities of Grissenwald, reminding watchman and reeve alike of the imperial edict which makes the settlement safe from any thoughts of further action.

The response is, generously, not the worst it could have been. Official charges against the dwarves are retracted and no move is made to crush the mutant enclave at Black Peaks, but the general attitude is perhaps a degree of two above freezing. From what you can gather the bad blood between the dwarves and humans of Grissenwald escalated into open fighting around the time you were observing the encampment, and by the time the violence stopped two humans and a dwarf were dead and several others seriously injured. The bad blood between the two groups is unlikely to be cleansed any time soon, and while neither seems intent on driving the mutants out of their encampment while you are there to oversee things, it is not lost on you just how much hateful resentment is in the stares directed Leopold's way.

Such a poor start is discouraging to be sure, but you console yourself with the fact that you have managed to prevent an outright pogrom and laid the foundations for future growth. You will not leave this matter half done. Having started down this path, it is your duty as a nobleman to see it through.

-/-

You spend a considerable portion of your first week's convalescence searching Etelka's residence from top to bottom, seeking any evidence of her capabilities or intent. Unfortunately there is not much to find; a few amulets marked with cult emblems, a collection of superficially benign letters with a member of the von Wittgenstein family, and a bafflingly large collection of fine clothing and elaborate jewellery. There are no grimoires, no ritual paraphernalia or dark treasures stamped with the sign of the ruinous powers, and no evidence regarding what might have drawn the witch and her companion towards the Barren Hills. You keep what you need for evidence and make a note to visit Castle von Wittgenstein after your current business is attended, but it seems that Etelka is one of those frustratingly competent adversaries who keeps anything truly incriminating far away from her residence. Questioning the mutants confirms that Etelka had a habit of taking small expeditions into the woods every few weeks, never being gone for more than a couple of days at a time or accompanied by more than a handful of her most faithful adherents. Unfortunately, without a guide of your own there is slim chance that you will be able to find her ritual grounds anytime soon.

Such a meagre result is disappointing, but it does at least give you a chance to speak with Rolf at some length. The lanky mutant seems to have adopted a position of authority among the mutants of Black Peaks roughly equivalent to an elder, having been involved in this enclave since it first started, and while his position is informal even a casual study is enough to demonstrate the high regard that the other mutants hold him in. One day, while comparing notes on possible locations for Etelka's hidden ritual site - far too many to practically winnow down with anything less than an army - you ask him about his plans for the future.

"Truth be, I don't rightly know," Rolf says thoughtfully, scratching his chin with one disconcertingly long arm, "There's wealth enough in Etelka's stash to get the village off to a proper start, more if we sell a few things from the tower… the real trick will be finding us someone willing to trade, and of them, someone that won't take us for every pfenning."

You nod, understanding the challenge immediately. That it is legal to be a mutant and by extension to do business with them means little if the merchants involved retain their old prejudices, and those who are sufficiently amoral to conduct such trade are almost by definition liable to be the worst kind of predatory scum imaginable. Fortunately, this is an dilemma that you have the tools to resolve.

"I can put you in touch with House Teugen of Bögenhafen," you offer, "They can be relied upon to supply anything you might need for a fair price."

"Teugen? I've heard of them," Rolf says slowly, looking you over with a speculative light in his eyes, "Can't say I'd trust them to be kind to folks like us most days, but seems you're more confident than most."

"The house and I have… an understanding," you say vaguely, trusting that the mutant will follow your meaning. It is generally poor form to speak of blackmail directly, even if performed in the name of justice. "If I instruct them to sell to you as they might any other, they will do so."

"Well now!" Rolf grins widely, folding his arms and bobbing his head like some strange waterfowl, "That sounds ideal. With a proper supplier we can turn Black Peaks into something worth calling home. Get some tools for the tradesmen, enough seeds and equipment to get the farms producing a surplus, maybe do a bit of logging…"

"Humble goals," you note, though in truth your grasp of numbers is shaky enough that you doubt you could speak with authority on such a budget.

"For you maybe, milord," Rolf says pointedly, "For most normal folks too, I reckon. But for folk like us? For folk like us, the idea of having a real home with real work and real options, a place we can be safe and share with them that truly understand… for folk like us, there's nothing humble about that at all."

You nod, conceding his point and hiding a smile at the enthusiasm. With one conversation you have given hope to the desperate and proven the worth of your choice, the virtue in man that Sigmar sought to protect. Truly, your decision to take House Teugen in hand is paying dividends.

-/-

Two weeks after the battle against Knud and his raiders, the dwarves of Grissenwald finally consent to a meeting. You had invited them to visit Black Peaks at first, to which they had replied with a demand for you to come to them, and in the end you'd settled on a negotiation held around a large flat rock roughly halfway between the town and the old mine. Of such compromises is diplomacy made.

The dwarven representative is the patriarch of the largest family among the populace, a staggeringly well muscled boulder of a dwarf by the name of Gorrim Greathammer. He sits on the far side of the stone table with a thunderous expression as you work your way through the formalities, stroking his thick red beard with one calloused hand as you introduce yourself and the mutants come to represent their settlement.

"You are squatters on rightful dwarven land, on stone that has belonged to the Greathammer clan since my grandfather's time," Gorrim says bluntly as soon as the introductions are over, his various associated sons, nephews and cousins nodding furiously behind him as he lays down his terms. "If you clear off now, and take not so much as a pebble with you, then we'll call it fairly done."

Rolf scoffs, clearly far from impressed, but he already agreed to let you take the lead on this matter as a mediator that the dwarves might respect.

"None are denying the past stewardship of the Greathammer line," you say evenly, feeling the weight of responsibility sit heavy on your shoulders, "Yet it was my understanding that you sold the land three years past."

"Under false pretenses," Gorrim scowls, looking up at you and jabbing an accusing finger towards the distant hills, "The witch Herzen knew she could never afford to pay what the land was worth, so she tricked us. Her magic hid the gold and the viable coal seams from view, made us think the land was tapped out and exhausted, and then when we were considering our options she came in and made her false offer."

"Gold?" Rolf says, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms across a narrow chest, "There's no gold in Black Peaks. It's been three years, we'd have found it by now."

"If there wasn't something worth having in those hills, then the witch wouldn't have bought them," Gorrim scoffs, shaking his head at the foolishness of men, "That a bunch of twisted manling freaks couldn't find it means nothing, even if you do speak truth. Doubtless Herzen was waiting until we'd moved on and forgotten the matter before making her 'sudden discovery', but we're not so easily fooled!"

"A dwarf of your standing ought to have better manners," you say sharply before Rolf can spit a curse in turn. Gorrim just scowls, resolutely unwilling to apologise or admit wrongdoing, and in the end you decide to press on. "Whatever you might think, Master Greathammer, mere sentiment will not overturn the law or force these people from their homes. Another solution must be found."

"If I were a shiftless, irresolute manling, aye," Gorrim growls, entirely unmoving, "But I am a dwarf. We will stay and press our claims; against Herzen if we must, or you, now that you've declared her an outcast."

Markus makes an Average (+20) Lore (Law) check. Skill is 60, roll is 56, bare pass.
Markus makes an Average (+20) Intuition check. Skill is 75, roll is 79, bare failure.

You are far less confident in reading dwarf expressions than those of humans, and so you have no idea whether or not Gorrim sincerely believes that his clan were cheated out of their land by means of sorcery, but the law at least is clear. Once the contract is signed and witnessed the matter is done and cannot be repealed. If there was some breach of contract or other fraud committed there might be room for negotiation, but the dwarves do not deny that they sold the land to Herzen for the price that she paid, only that the price was fair; they have no legal recourse under even the most generous interpretation of the statutes. Nor, for that matter, do you honestly believe they should - mere regret is no grounds to unilaterally roll back a land purchase, even if the other party turned out to be a daemon worshipping witch.

Still, just because you have no sympathy for their opening position does not mean you will not bargain. Any arrangement that defuses the tensions and furthers the bonds of civilisation is virtuous in the eyes of Sigmar, and you are nothing (truly nothing) if not a faithful man.

"Master Rolf, are any of your people mine workers?" you ask after a moment's thought.

"Not as such, no," Rolf says with a frown, crossing his arms and giving you a skeptical look, "Farmers and foresters for the most part, a few tradesmen."

"Then I have a proposal," you nod, turning back towards the dwarves, "Clan Greathammer buys prospecting rights in the Bleak Peaks for a nominal fee, entitling them to perform such surveys and exploratory digs as necessary to verify whether Herzen truly did conceal viable deposits. Should any be found, they may be mined by the Clan in exchange for proportional fees paid to the inhabitants, at standard rates and terms."

You have no idea what those standard rates and terms might actually be, but they surely have to exist; there are too many mines operating across fiefdom lines for this to be anything other than a well trod area of legal precedent. The details matter less than the fact that such a possibility exists, which in turn provides the foundation for your real argument.

"Such an arrangement allows you to reclaim your wealth with less risk and less expense, establishing the foundation for later developments," you say firmly and sincerely, willing Gorrim to see reason, "Even should it be proven that Etelka Herzen deceived you, your grudge must surely be with her, not with the people of Grissenwald or of Black Peaks. When she returns I shall bring her to justice, and I would be honoured to count the mountain folk as my allies in that pursuit."

Markus makes a challenging (+0) charm test. Skill is 55, roll is 89. Fortune spent for reroll, 90. Major failure.

Gorrim Greathammer bristles angrily, his already ruddy skin flushing with outrage as he leaps to his feet. "Honoured? You'd be honoured, would you? You insult me and my clan with this farce of an offer and then claim you would be honoured if we bled in your place? Damn your offer, manling, and damn your compromises."

He spits on the ground then turns his back and walks away, his various associated kin and comrades falling in behind him. You stare after them in silent befuddlement for a moment, then force your mouth to close before you can look like an even greater idiot.

"Well, it was worth the attempt," Rolf sighs, rising from his own seat and moving back over to rejoin the other mutants who came with him. "Thank you for trying, my lord, but we'd best be getting back."

There doesn't seem to be nearly as much hard feeling behind his words as you might have expected, and your mood turns bleaker as understanding comes. None of the mutants expected negotiation to work, nor for the peoples of Grissenwald to accept them and their presence in any meaningful fashion, and they have been proven right. With a pained grimace you push yourself back to your feet as well, making your way back over to the side of the clearing where Max waits with your horse.

"You know," the legbreaker murmurs quietly as you approach, "We could just say anything the witch signed is null and void. Doubt there's many that would take up her cause, and it'd make the shorties happy. Ain't your cult meant to be all about that?"

"We are bidden by doctrine to honour our oaths and uphold the ancient alliance, not to give any given dwarf whatever they happen to want at that present moment," you grunt, hiding a wince at the thought of Max using that kind of term where anyone outside your immediate circle might hear. "Even if it were not so, I will not betray these people for mere political gain."

"Right, see, that's the other thing I don't get," Max says darkly, looking over the saddle he is currently adjusting to glare at Rolf and the others on the far side of the clearing, "Why'd you keep calling them people, acting like it matters? They're mutants."

There's too much hatred in that word alone to ignore, even if you wished to. "Max. You know the Emperor's edict…"

"Words on paper don't change the truth, boss, and you know it," Max growls, shaking his head disapprovingly, "And don't try pretending you're above it, either. I've seen you flinch more than once when one of them goes by, the looks you try to hide when they get too close. Part of you hates them as much as I do."

"Obviously," you say flatly, fixing your man with the sharpest glare you can muster, "I was raised a pious man, and the habits of a lifetime are not so easily broken. Yet I am noble and templar both; if there are any that ought to be held to a higher standard, expected to place the law and the service of the people above the qualms of their heart, it is men like me, and while that remains true I will neither betray these people or sanction any effort to do so. You will not speak of this again."

You do not think Max entirely understands, or that he is happy with your decision, but you have confidence that he will obey. For now that will have to be enough.

-/-

A month after your arrival in Grissenwald your ribs finally reach a point where you can move freely with comfort. There is still the odd twinge when you move too fast, the faint ghost of pain that haunts you at inopportune moments, but they are far from the first lingering mark of injuries sustained in this life. One day you will be like General Wälder, you suppose, confined to a wheelchair and carrying on as best you can despite the crippling pain of a lifetime of service… but not today.

With your injuries largely healed and no sign of your quarry returning you begin making preparations to depart. You settle all outstanding accounts with Rolf and the mutants, ensure that their trading ties with House Teugen will endure even after you take your eye off the situation, and begin arranging transport. Josef has long since departed, the business of the river carrying him off over the horizon after a few days in dock, but you don't imagine there will be any difficulties in arranging a replacement. The people of Grissenwald are positively eager to be rid of you.

Naturally, that is when it all starts going wrong.

You wake in the night to the sound of screaming, lurching out of the bed and grabbing your pistol from the table before your mind has even caught up to what your ears are hearing. Words that are half prayer and half curse spill from your lips as you stagger across to the window, peering out into the darkness beyond the tower with eyes still dull with sleep. There are dark shapes moving out there, the flickering points of light that suggest torches born aloft by people moving at some speed, but whence comes the screaming, the sounds of combat? By Sigmar, what is going on out there?

Markus makes an average (+20) perception roll. Skill is 75, roll is 62, success.

From the distant treeline emerges a blazing pillar of pink and blue, writhing serpents of unholy flame that eat the shadows any wholesome flame should cast. Even from this distance you can see the caster sat proud and high atop a strangely docile horse, her long blond hair fluttering wildly in the burning updraft of her spell. As her will the flame crawls across the sky like a strange parody of a comet, its light illuminating dozens of hulking humanoid forms that prowl and stalk and lope across the rough and broken ground, and when at last it crashes down again near the entrance to the mine the sound of screaming takes on a new and shriller note.

Beastmen. Etelka Herzen has returned, slipping past every net and agent placed in Grissenwald to warn of such a thing, and she has brought a tribe of beastmen with her.

"Sigmar damn her," you growl, lurching away from the window and grabbing for your armour. You've just about managed to get the leather leggings on and are pulling on your boots when the door crashes open and Max runs in, his face streaked with soot and his eyes wide. "Max. Good. Help me with my armour, and tell me what we know."

"Fuck all worth the name," Max says succinctly, grabbing your armoured coat from the rack by the door as you pull the chainmail on over your head, "Bitch didn't come in through Grissenwald, I'd swear to that, but how she crossed the river with that lot…"

"Dark sorcery, no doubt," you say grimly, holding your arms out while Max helps secure the buckles on your armour, "Very well. What of the others?"

"The mutants are falling back into the mines," Max says tersely, giving your armour a sharp tug to make sure it is going to stay on, "Most of the beasts are following them in, but chances are some of them will come sniffing around this tower soon enough. I locked the door, but the bitch probably has a key."

Exhaling slowly, you consider your options. From conversation with Rolf you know there are other routes out of the mines, but they are smaller and not so easily navigated, and chances are Etelka Herzen knows of them as well. Even if she does not, the beastmen are infamous for the ease with which they hunt and fight in the gloom of night. If they cannot hope to successfully flee, the best chance the mutants have is to band together and hold a defensive line at a narrow part of the tunnels, robbing the beastmen of the bulk of their numerical advantage and forcing Etelka to get closer if she wishes to employ her dark magic. You know Rolf has been keeping up the militia drills… but they are outnumbered by beastmen, and most of the settlement's truly experienced warriors died at your hand or left with Etelka in the first place. This is not a fight they are going to win.

(You spare a moment to curse the stubborn pride of the dwarves and the bitter myopia of men. Grissenwald would not garrison forces out here among the mutants, and even if they see the signs of combat and muster out immediately, it will take an hour or more for any relief to arrive. You will fight, and quite possibly die, alone.)

"Alright, you're good," Max grunts, tightening the last of your armour straps and taking up his own weapons once again, "What's the plan?"

Article:

Choose one

[ ] Reinforce the Mines
You will break through the encircling beastmen and join Elvyra and the mutants in the mines. This will concentrate your forces in a single defensible location, but will also surrender all initiative and render you a clustered target for Etelka's spells, assuming she is willing to draw close enough to find line of sight.

[ ] Hold the Tower
You and Max will remain within the witch's tower, firing from the windows and fending off those beasts that seek to break in. Your presence will take pressure off the mine's defenders, and it is likely that Etelka Herzen will not wish to burn her own home to the ground, but it will still be you and Max alone against anything the night might throw at you.

[ ] Sally Forth
A counter charge will be the last thing the beastmen expect, and for good reason. You will be vastly outnumbered, surrounded and clearly visible, almost certain to die before accomplishing anything of note… but you might, just might, live long enough to reach the witch and strike Etelka Herzen down.

Note - Markus has recovered full health and healed his earlier critical injury. You do not know how many beastmen there are, or what kind. No reinforcements will reach you before this is already over.